How to become a literary, a luminary, to know and feel a sparkling flash of purpose and sense of self? In college, I dreamt of becoming a big city fish. In New York, I'm finding that everyone's a piranha.

Monday, October 01, 2007

To all the boys I love(d)

Our mix tastes just like Sunday night when the only light is the green glow of a dashboard. We’re driving* and the speakers are cracking too loud but we both like it that way and anything that is said is quickly drowned out by verse chorus verse and you not pushing up the window…

These are our songs, the songs that you don’t know are about us.

If this were a high school dance, I’d like to dedicate the following songs to the intangibles, what I miss and what I don’t:

*—well you are, because you always drive, you never let me touch your car, and you shouldn’t, I’m a terrible driver, partly because every time we drive you remind me so and never let me touch the wheel, it’s a vicious cycle, really...

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About Me

Barely the definition of an adult, I'm trying to navigate through the city, the scenesters, the lackies, the lonely, and wondering if
I'll ever fit in.
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